The Distance From Waking
by afeverdream
Summary: Just how hard is it to wake up.
1. You can't see lies when lights are off

Shosanna started to dream. IT had been how many years since she ran from that farmhouse. His words ringing in her ears; almost masked by her desperate grabs for air to fill her burning lungs. "Au Revior, Shosanna!" yelled in the most gleeful way. Blood matting her hair and the arid smell of smoke itching in her nose. This was what she started to dream about. Glimpses of his boots above the floorboards, shiny and sharp. A lot like his eyes she's heard in passing since that time so few years ago. Thank God she hasn't had the misfortune of seeing him within the city. She knew he was here at times. But she was comforted in the fact he would no interest in a tiny little movie house. He was to cultured to want to spend what little free time he had wasting his gaze on the flickering screen. So she felt safe until the dreams came.

It started the day she went to the market. Marcel was gone, off one some errand from a past life she wanted to know nothing about. She had stopped to read some film review at a coffee shop, cigarette dwindling down in her hand as she became absorbed in her article. Her time alone was precious, then she could be Shosanna again and not Emmanuelle, at least pretend she was away at school from her family enjoying the exciting city growing up in a girlish fashion. It was then she felt a crisp breeze pass by her as she sat at a café table, glancing up she caught from the corner of her eye a grinning skull. It was perched on top a head held high and a face framed by caramel hair shot with grey at the temples. It shaded fever bright hazel eyes that demand you look into them only to turn away in fear, the depths holding more than the boyish charm his smile promised. Shosanna shrank into her seat and turned her paper to hide her face. Of course her hair was a different color and her body more filled out, she couldn't stay a young teenage girl forever and events had forced her to grow quicker than she ever dreamed possible. Still she knew he would know and if she could a little bit longer then all would be well. His steps faded off into the distance and she lit a fresh cigarette, her nerves clattering in her body. It was as though a winter gall passes by, flowers sprang back to life and the sun returned its nourishing warmth. The earth started to turn again, but for her it was still stuck titled just slightly off its axis.

Just as before Hans Landa entered her life again in the most dramatic way possible. And so she started top dream of him. First nightmares of him finally catching her, running her down that pasture either shooting out her knees or crushing her throat as she bleed out underneath him. They changed within the weeks; he found her now appearing above her bed in the room at the top of the theater. Darkly above her whispering those words form long ago while effortlessly snuffing out her life. They changed even then while she lay in Marcel's arms, more violent so she trashed and kicked in her sleep forcing her gentle giant to seek refuge in his own room only coming to her for short periods of time. Still more the dreams changed moving into territory they had no right in being. At times it would be in that field after he wounded her, taking in her arms lapping at the blood on her neck and valley between her collarbones and chest. Promising dark secrets in that singsong voice of his, promising her that even though this was good bye for now he would find her again. Then she would be in his arms now, her honey colored hair twisted in his grasp pulling till her scalp burned. He would take her, biting and marking showing the whole world nothing ran from him without getting its deserved punishment. She would wake from these, limbs aching with a phantom need and thighs moist with her own betrayal. She started losing sleep.

Soon she started seeing everywhere; the man not only haunted her dreams but her waking reality. Still she was safe from him in her theater, he couldn't physically touch her there even though he tormented her in sleep, or she just tormented herself. She spent hours in the office, starting down a glass of wine finally figuring out her subconscious craving. He showed no fear and weakness, only command. She never had that command while her family lived. Always the good daughter and sister, smiling and knowing her life would be stuck in that little dairy village, marrying and growing old never having lived. Always dreaming a pipe dream of lost Paris. He gave that freedom and almost control of her life. And now she felt as though she owed some source of payment. So she gave herself over to her dreams, welcoming them with open arms. Panting in the middle of the night and wishing with fear in heart he was here to kiss and kill her and tell her of her mistakes in that voice, boyish smirk mocking her as he took her over the edge of reality again and again.


	2. If we all should die tonight

**Author Note: I believe I need a beta. Microsoft word just really doesn't cut it when you need an honest opinion. If anyone would like to please PM me. Thank you and I hope you enjoy this chapter. And I guess I should say I wish Landa was real. But nope no rights to the brilliant imagination of Tarentino. **

He breathed in her scent, exhaled it slowly like the smoke of a fine cigarette. She may have changed her hair and built up a wall around herself but he still knew her. He didn't make a mistake letting her run from him that day. One way she would find her way back to him. She would begin to doubt herself and feel his breath on the back of her neck. After she left the café that day he circled back, catching her image out of the corner of his eye she sparked a vague memory of dark colored hair dripping red rubies. He seated himself at her table, her cup still half full of coffee dark as sin. A smoldering cigarette etching disappearing masterpieces in the air while the crumbs of pastry spoke of the caress of her lips the fork forgotten next to the plate.

He asked about the slim young lady, saying he reminded him of a past acquaintance in Austria. He learned she was the owner of a small movie theater passed to her from an aunt. He learned of her lover, watching as she mechanical leaned into him, let him think he was protecting her with his silent stature. He memorized her daily patterns: she would go to market on Tuesdays and Fridays, change the marquee on Mondays and not sleep Saturdays and Sundays. Wednesdays were her day to herself when she would wander around the city, investigate little museums and shops taking delight in simple scenes of flowers and fountains.

He started going to the late shows, turning and watching her flickering shadow in the projection box. He could always tell when it was her; when the behemoth of man was there he blocked any sort of light. When she was there he would catch a glimpse of her hair or a pale hand and pink lips mouthing along to a film she loved. Her mouth silently forming the words as his imagination took on a depth he didn't expect, painting pictures in his mind of what that mouth really should be doing. He always dressed in civilian clothes these nights, enjoying the enigma he became. No one coward in fear as he passed by. Dark cap pushed low on his brow, fitted pea coat around his fit lean frame with a Henley shirt underneath to fight of the late evening chills. His legs clad in dark slacks and his steps masked by soft sole shoes. He was always amused by these little commitments to celluloid. As though humanity wanted an imprint of their great achievements just too only showcase the gaudiness of vanity. Except he found the films she choice to be simple, no over blown set design and starlets flinging themselves into the arms of every silent man on screen. She picked the ones built upon dialogue and the power of a look or the riveting sweep of the camera. He made sure she never saw him, wanting her to feel safest in her won lair away from him.

After one night of watching her walk late to her favorite café he noticed she looked tired. The cinema business wasn't exactly doing remarkable well, so he wondered why she looked worn down. He paused, pondering at this thought knowing her lover was becoming more distance. Wondered how the hint of concern wormed its way into his conscious. He walked pass her, brushing up against her arm. Knowing his scent would linger. The leather of his long duster was missing, but his basic scent of sandalwood and coriander would be there. Dropping down to fix his loose shoelace, he glanced around his shoulder watching her stop and lifts her nose to the air and sniff in the scent. Her eyes slowly closed and her mouth opened slightly as if tasting it. Her throat moving in a slow motion as she swallowed, hands gripping so hard he would swear her nails cut into the flesh of her palms. Getting up he sauntered down the street leaving her behind, glancing around like a trembling rabbit waiting for the falcon to swoop down and drag her away. He smirked knowing he was working his way into the very fiber of her being. Into her every waking thought and hopefully her sleeping moments; crushing her very sense of sanity.

Landa started to dream of her that night. It began by him chasing her down through a field of grass, waving like sea before him. He shot out her legs and watched as she tried to crawl away from, pitiful cries coming from her. He choked her life from her, till his hands hurt at the strain it caused him her eyes staring and accusing him of so many sins. He woke, rubbing his head and blaming it on the strudel and espresso he had after leaving the theater. His sweet tooth always mocking him at the oddest times, smiling he went back to sleep and didn't dream for the rest of the night. He passed the dream off until he had another one the next week after he watched her in the market. This one he ran her down, dark hair whipping in her eyes as the field turned into the wet streets of Paris. Watched as she morphed from the young terrified girl into a woman almost playing hide and seek in alleyways and shadows cast by houses. He grabbed at her coat flinging from him only to watch elude his hand, laughing at him with her eyes twinkling with malicious intent telling him she would destroy as he did her. He jerked awake at this one, his arm still outstretched. Staying awake he found himself at his desk analyzing case files and trying to ignore the strain on his body.

They became more frequent, each one moving to a different time and place. It started affecting him in meetings, his mind would wonder reminiscing at the look of the sun behind her hair in the field, the blades of grass lying across her throat as she gulped when he licked the blood from her skin. Or the way her eyes widened as he finally grasped a piece of her honeyed hair and drew her close to his person, duster wrapping them both. He still followed her and watched her in the dark velvety expanse of her small palace. So far it was only hints of what he wanted, something he denied himself for a long while. His body reacting so when he woke up all he needed was a few hard grasps and he would spill onto the sheets, wishing it was her body he painted with himself. White glittering in the streetlight along the creamy skin of her thighs or chest, her back arched towards him teeth pressing into the back of her hand. Still they intensified moving into the realm of her bedroom, he pictured a bed with dark sheets and her hair fanned out on pillows a myriad of colors. His body covered her small on. Hips pushing to meet his, legs wrapping around his shoulders as her hands clawed down his back. Tongue sneaking out to taste an expanse of skin on the inside of a leg leading to the wet heat she desperately wanted him to fill , her hand taking a bold hold of him stroking and twisting with an exquisite technique. Mewling sounds would come from her turning to hot little pants, exploding into too loud moans and screams causing her voice to turn hoarse from his name being pounded from her.

After the third weeks of the nightly tortures he decided they would come to fruition. She would no longer mock him from empty streets, her scent following him around. That crisp citrus with the underline of clove making him imagine what her skin tasted exactly like. He would corner her, making her tremble and fall into his arms. Her arms' wrapping around his neck as his bit her's marking her for all to see. He would make her hurt and regret running from him, for trying to hide herself away from him in a mockery of freedom. He would show just how hard it is to wake up when all you want to do is wrap yourself in the sheets and sink down into the strangling arms of nocturnal bliss.


	3. We cant go back we cant go

Shosanna's head hit the desk with a very loud thunk. Her eyes blinked blearily at the weak sun making the dust motes sparkle around her window. These moments have become more frequent in the past few weeks as her nocturnal fumbling became more intensified. She slept only not in the normal sense, her body raking its own physical response to the dreams. She was tired of this game. She even thought she saw him late one night in the theater, arm casually thrown across the seat next to him as his eyes followed the movements of the simple noir that was playing. Clad in civilian clothing this man looked like he was at complete ease enjoying a simple escape from the grey of the earlier day. He ignored the young couple a few rows from him, wrapped in an embrace that would have benefitted in the cheap places a few districts over. Shaking her head she dismissed the thought of this man being Landa. She spied on him as he left, the set of his shoulder and gait not demanding attention from his fellow pedestrians. Part of her wished that this man was him and the killer was actually a part he played hiding away in necessary evils. She concluded her over stimulated brain was causing her to see things that really didn't exist. As of right now, said brain reminder her bills needed to be paid and new films purchased. Looking down at her ledger Shosanna dropped her pen; she just wanted to slip into well deserved slumber.

Her week passed by slowly; on Saturday she ran the matinee. It was a children's film, something to make her heavy heart feel somewhat lighter. Later in the evening it would be one of her favorites, something dark and menacing to close out the week full of the same kind of thoughts. She sat in the projection booth listening to the whirl of the reels changing. Glancing out she noticed the theater looked more than halfway filled. An amused smile graced her lips as she noticed the man was there again. Farther back than normal, his arms crossed as his shoulders hunched forward. He looked engrossed in the film and even though Shosanna had seen it many times, she wanted to sit next to him to see his reactions to the parts that still made her jump. Leaning back in to start the next reel switch she didn't see him turn his head to look back. Her hands deftly maneuvering the bulky tins to slid into place she sighed satisfied with her own private scene on the floor below. Going back to her perch she placed her chin her hands, looking back down she saw he was gone. Maybe he left for a smoke outside or to use the restroom. Either choice he didn't come back, as the credits rolled she found herself disappointed. Opening the booth door later minutes later there was a box placed on the floor before her. In it was a slice of strudel. Panic made her heart almost burst as she ran downstairs and out onto the street. There was nobody there to witness the frenzied turn of her body and the helpless drop of her arms. She went back inside to clean up after the attendants. Hours later at her desk she eyed the pastry like it was a viper. There was no note, just fresh fruit glistening in the wrappings of airy dough. She shrugged and delved in. That night she dreamed of Landa eating strudel off her stomach, licking the sticky sweet remains from her belly button. Before she shut off her light she never noticed the shadow across the street, smoke curling from the hand as her constant movie goer enjoyed his own story play out.

Landa knew she was watching him, she started two weeks ago. He could feel those eyes burning into the back of his skull. He never let it bother him. He basked in her curious gaze, knowing it made her already plagued mind work that much harder to see if she could place him. What a delicious game he was playing now. She was playing along so well, only getting nervous if he revealed too much. He dropped hints out in daylight, letting her know he was in the district. He never made his presence a surprise. It was never his way when he was on business. But the nights were his own time, even when he had to go away on chases in the country side. The dreams of her keeping him company when he slept in a bed more accustomed to be calling a cot. These were tame ones, filled with him holding her close to him, enjoying the feel of her skin next to him and the rise and fall of her chest as she slept deeply. It was after one of these missions that he knew she noticed him. He missed their game for a longer amount of time than he ment. It had been difficult to extract the information he needed. The basterds where encroaching on dangerous territory and he need information to tell he spoiled leaders some sort of story that would balm they're wounded pride. He could actually careless about these vigilantes; personally he felt that whoever they came across deserved the fate those men gave them. It meant they were weak and useless. Now the whispers of Operation Kino were what intrigued him. Letting those corrupted with their own folly be damned, he would walk away purging the stupidity of the past ten years. Start anew with maybe a girl whose gaze burned at him from a city miles away. These thought spoke to his sense of survival.

Today he watched her laugh at the little ones munching on treats with little legs swinging from plush seats. Big eyes set in small faces laugh at the silly images playing on a huge screen in front of them. She looked truly relaxed, helping them pick out confections and even singing as she swept up after them. Later he came back, noticing the crowd that was present tonight. The marquee promising thrills not ment for the squeamish. Young men held the hands of giddy girls waiting to clutch and grasp at strong arms. He seated himself farther back then normal, as the film started he looked up, she was leaning out eyes eagerly watching the extravagant story take place. She jumped at the shadows and swells in music. He hunched forward sharing in her excitement. Turning back she had disappeared, knowing she had to change the reel he silently left. Tonight he would reveal a little bit more, make a bigger move. He walked down the quiet street passing his favorite café, smirking he went in and purchased two desserts and walked back to the theater. He moved up the steps swiftly, the faint shrieks from the screen room letting him now the climax was soon to unfold. He placed his gift from a few feet from the locked door knowing it would not be missed. He quickly left and walked a few blocks away, the theater soon emptied of its inhabitants. They laughed as they swiftly left the dark streets, chatter echoing of the stone houses. He didn't have to wait long, she ran out of the building soon enough. Pacing up and down the street and peering off into the corners, she looked lost. Her arms dropped off to the side and her head hung in defeat. Slowly she walked back to her den, marquee lights shut off for the night and doors locking behind her. He knew she would clean first then retire in about an hour. He had enough cigarettes with him to enjoy the wait. Her light flicked off sooner than he expected.

He waited till the next weekend before he wandered near the cinema again. He walked in halfway through the last show. Only she wasn't in the projection booth, the other man was. Her guardian that knew she was already lost but would still protect her. Landa turned to leave, walking back through the lobby he glanced back and saw her struggling with some sort of burden in her arms not really noticing her surroundings. She dropped her tins and instantly bent to retrieve them. Here was the moment he could resist. Her long hands stacking her precious cargo he slide over and bent down to whisper in her delicate ear, "Bonsoir Shosanna." He watched as her hand shook and her eyes widen as she met his own smiling ones. He tucked a strand of hair back into the scarf around her head. "Did you like my gift the other night? The cherry reminded me of your lips after you bite them." He slightly mocked her, his tone implying why she bit them. Who exactly caused her to do so. Her body trembled so violently she thought she would stop breathing in front of him. Oh his poor girl, her sanctum has come crashing down around her. He stroked her check with the back of his hand and left her there crouched on the floor.

Shosanna shuddered, he found her. He played with her for weeks on end it seemed. All those weeks spent watching a man she prayed to be the opposite of him only to find that indeed it was the man from her nightmares and fantasies. Damn him, but he made her shake. When he looked her in the eye she could see underneath the prey drive pure desperation. The desperate need she felt, caused by too many nights tormented by imagined touches and taunts. Oh she enjoyed the gift he left, dreamed of eating off of him. Of licking her way down his chest, lavishing his nipples and nipping at his stomach. Pausing only to look at him as he waited for her next move and watching him smile with satisfaction as she nearly swallowed him whole. Worshiping him with her mouth as he pulled her hair and nearly choking her with his need. She prayed he would mistake her arousal with fear. To see him in front of her, dressed not in his pompous SS uniform but looking like a flesh and blood man made her breath escape from her lungs. She felt her eyes slip shut as he touched her cheek, realizing in fact he was here and she wasn't asleep again. She only opened them again when she heard the door shut behind him. So the game was set, relief flooded through her. She knew he wasn't here to kill her, at least not yet. He wanted more, she wanted more and she would take it. No more shivering in the dark haunted by feverish dreams. She quickly took her reels to the storage room, she could sort them later. She left a hastily scribbled note for Marcel, tacked to the projection room door. Running from her theater which she knew was no longer hallowed ground, it hadn't been for awhile anyways, not when he started to creep into her sleep. Glancing down the empty street she rushed towards the lights of the cafes hoping to catch him.

Landa sauntered down away from Shosanna, he wanted more time with her but knew she had to come to him on her own terms. He closed eyes drawing up the image of her chest heaving underneath her blouse. Her slim legs pulled into a crouch, her pants making them look miles long. She looked good in the simple outfit, normally women dressed so casually never caught his attention. They always looked to rustic and plain. She wore it with a determination, flaunting that's she could wear the same as a man and look better in it. He entertained the thought of her clad in one of his thermal shirts, it draping above her thighs and unbuttoned showing off the valley between her breasts. He cut the thought short; it was something to dwell on later. Kino was rearing its head in his direction and he needed to make an attempt to know his rumors better. Tonight was his gift to himself; to keep him going while he whittled away at work. The thoughts of her questioning herself and looking over his shoulder for the wolf could only sharpen his appetite. To say the least he was shocked when he turned the corner from the newspaper stand to see her waiting for him at the café. Her hair escaping from its holder, coat wrapped around her and eyes burning behind thick lashes. They stood there, trying to decipher who was going to make the first move. Landa walked up to her, placing his hand on her arm he offered to escort her inside. He chose a small table in the back where they could have an illusion of privacy. They placed orders, hers a coffee black and his an espresso with a slice of strudel. Her eyes meeting his," I did enjoy the gift partly. But I find I enjoy sweets better in the company of another," she simply stated. She didn't flinch or waver when he threw his head back with hearty laughter.

"Where was your fellow projectionist? Would he not have welcomed the chance?" Landa brushed the tears of mirth away. "Marcel is a fellow movie enthusiast, nothing more." Her very blunt reply had Landa look at her sharply. Shosanna merely kept a steady lock on him. "He keeps me safe from harm and only expects a roof and friendship; I have nothing more to give him," Shosanna knew this was what she felt. Marcel deserved more than her, someone to love him without conditions and even though he had immense physical strength and was there when she craved the touch of another human. She knew he had already moved on from her. Both played the game of casual friends, pretending to play catch up after months or years of not seeing each other. As though he didn't kill her family and she didn't change her very being just to start an imagined illusion of safety. Their drinks appeared on the table before them. The dessert placed in between, two forks lay side by side. Shosanna grinned and picked hers up; taking a small bite she closed her eyes catching a crumb falling with a flick of her thumb. Landa watched every movement, feeling his body grow taught with a deep ache. He knew she did it to catch his attention, realization dawned on him, she wanted this as much as him. Wanted to feel what darkness he could offer, match what he had to offer with her needs. Inside he leaped around, like a teenage boy after his first conquest. Here she was offering herself up to him ready to match him at every twist and turn. She wasn't going to play fair, she proved that tonight. They finished the strudel, Landa leaning over and swiped his thumb across her bottom lip; he licked the remnants of confection from the appendage. Her tongue making similar movements across her lip, eyes shadowed in the low light of the café. "I believe it's time we took this conversation someplace more intimate Emmanuelle." Landa let her alias roll from his mouth. She looked amused by this, "I believe we still have out little parts to play and some secrets others shouldn't know,' he finished. Dropping money on the table he watched her move away first, her head held as she walked from the brightly lit shop. She waited outside and never questioned when he fell into step beside her.

She led him back to the theater, but he kept walking. He didn't want her there yet. She wasn't ready for him there yet. He turned two streets down; walking up a flight of stairs he unlocked the door, holding it open for her. She couldn't believe he lived this close to her for so long. But then again up until a few months ago he really wasn't stationed in Paris. Closing the door behind them he took her coat from her shoulder. He brushed his hand threw the wisp of hair at the nape of her neck and relished the sigh that escaped her lips. Only a few lamps were lit but she could see simple dark furniture against the white stucco walls. The floor length window hung with blue lined curtains. Bookshelves hinted of pursuits and a record player was sitting in the corner. She wandered over and glanced at the records left out, classical artist ranging from German, Polish, Russian and a few she didn't recognize. He stepped behind her and switched it on, Beethoven's ode to moonlight turning softly. Landa ran his hand down her back. "Curious about what could entertain me?" He asked, "So much you that you have no idea, did it surprise you I enjoy the cinema?" Shosanna turned around, her body captured in between his arms. She replied," Yes." She admitted, "I thought you a man that enjoyed more refined things, not the same as the simple masses." He laughed, almost a low growl in his chest. "I enjoy what I want, I'm selective about it. But I find mass enjoyment in many different things. One of the most beautiful things I've seen has been the sun setting in the gardens of Versailles. No one else; just me with the birds quietly serenading me." His words ghosted along her nose, his face mere inches from her own. Shosanna slipped away, twirling lightly to the sonata. She seated herself on the low couch, her legs stretched out in front of her. She smiled at him, a genuine movement of her mouth. "Simplicity is over looked these days. Not many know how to actually feel. Do you truly?" Her words stung, she wasn't going to be taken down easily and he should have known that. What did he think that she would come meekly and instantly fall into to his bed? Legs open for him while she panted like a bitch in heat. Why he even entertained the thought of her like that he didn't know this was the girl that ran from him. Didn't look back and kept moving, even now that he had her trapped she didn't back down just looked at him with her even gaze and a small secret smile painting her lips.

"My dear Shosanna, I feel maybe too much. Even doing what you most despise I feel, detached but still a sense of purpose. Do you think actually I relish this despicable Reich? Run by men with the sense of purpose stuck so far up their own asses diamond should be forming. I'm wasted running their little missions, the purging to make their own self worth mean something more. I'm only bidding my time waiting till this farce is over; I have my own future I plan to attend to." He laid it bare before her, how he was humoring those around him. She was shocked and never imagined Hans Landa to ever admit anything to her. Play her and use her, throw her away when he was finished. As though reading her thoughts he walked towards her, bent down and softly told her; "Mein Leibe I do not plan on playing lightly with you. I am a possessive man. I want what I want and take it when it gives itself to me. And I do not tire easily; silly games bore me quickly so think of what you are going to do. When I enjoy something it's to my complete desire and I keep it for an eternity. If you stay and you're willing to indulge me, make sure it's for a long while. But if you leave now I do not take rejection well. It will hurt you more than you can imagine." He had her face in his hand, thumb rubbing against her jaw, his touch and words causing her to shiver.

She looked at him, her voice trembling, and "It's going to be painful either way. You gave me freedom from a life never ment for me. You gave me a chance to run from a false self. Even though I sacrificed my life I do not blame you directly for the events. Part of me still hates you, I'll admit this. The circumstances bringing you to that farm could have and would have happened anyways. If not you then another Gestapo, nothing is really that simple. But you had to come in, so smart and charming that I wanted to see you face to face. To actually see if my death would look me in the eye and send me on my way with a smile and a pat on the head, like a good girl, martyred for being a part of a people I had no control over. You did, with a goodbye and promises that have haunted my sleep ever since. I want you, I want you to consume me and chase away this ache. I will crawl to you if you want me too or beg on hands and knees. Do whatever you want, I won't take rejection well either but you had me at the moment your voice wished me adieu." Her confession burned, rocked him to his core. That was why she shook so many times, tested the air for his scent and prickled in his near presence. He was under the pretense it was fear, no it was anticipation for her own sin to engulf her.

"Hans," Shosanna breathed his name, "Hans I am yours to do with what you wish whenever you want it." He still held her face in his hands, he hadn't moved throughout her whole speech. The record was still playing behind them. God his skin burned to have her next to him. She was right; she was his and had been the moment she ran from that ramshackle farmhouse. Her eyes trained on his face waiting for some type of reaction, "Mein "he stated. "Always mine, never anyone else's." His gripped tightens and he drug her face closer to his. He plundered her mouth eyes still open; she let him in and responded with her own ferocity. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up to him still they were both standing. Breaking away from her mouth he unwrapped her hair, letting the honeyed strands spill into his fingers. Nuzzling her ear he commanded, "Say my name again, Shosanna say it. Scream it till your voices breaks." His skilled hands moving across her, unbuttoning her blouse letting it slip down her arms. He backed away pulling his own shirt off. Kicking his shoes away from him, his skin glowed in the low light. Even though he was older his body was still graceful. Lean muscles in his arms sculpted down to his chest. Light hair dusted him around his navel trailing down to where she could see the effects the evening had procured. Her own skin goose bumped, thrilling at the chance to finally feel him against her. He cocked his head to the side and beckoned her to him with his left hand; he bent down loosing the belt of her pants. She bated his hands away, undoing them herself letting them pool around her feet. She also kicked them away along with her shoes. He grinned at her, boyish smirk so pleased with the results. Her firm breasts encased in a long camisole slightly covering her underwear. His own clothing was gone a second later. Blushing she realized he wore nothing underneath his own slacks. Pulling her towards him he spun her around and pressed her up against the wall. He ran his tongue down her neck and lapped at her collarbone like in her dreams. Her mind danced as fantasy was swept away by the stucco sensation digging into to her back and Landa's hands pinning her own to her sides.

Hans was in pure bliss. He loved the way she stared at him naked, gaze branding him making him burn even more. He watched her creamy skin flush as he examined her. She was slim and pert, statuesque with restrained passion. She twitched underneath him. Body arching to meet his, he wanted her to wrap those legs around his waist. Instead he pinned her back and slipped down her body, her underclothing amusing him to no end. She chose red, hidden behind the somber colors of the day she was fire underneath. As lovely as they were they didn't last long. He pulled the straps from the camisole, lifted it above her head and captured a nipple in his teeth. Her moan made him grin and kiss a pathway to her navel. He pulled her underwear down with his teeth, taking his hand he pushed them farther down till she was forced to kick them off. Kissing her upper thigh he moved to her hip. The delicate shape tempting him to bite down, which he gladly indulged in earning him a strangled groan. Lapping at the mark he moved on in his exploration, his hands still pinning her arms at her side while she thrashed against the wall. Nesting his head at the apex of her legs he nudged them apart, already tasting in the air her sweetness. Slowly her parted her with his tongue and sampled what she had to give like a fine wine. His own arousal aching painful, begging to be buried in the liquid gold her body created.

Standing up he released her arms, slipping his behind her back in case she fell with the lack of support. "As much as I want you here, there are other places I want you before my living room." Shosanna peered at him through hazed eyes. She could only nod weakly. So far he was proving more than her nocturnal reminiscing. He pulled her into his bedroom. His bed was large covered in white linen, the only color coming from the curtains floating around the same type of windows from the living room. Glancing over she duly noted they opened onto a balcony, filled with flowers their scent still poling around from the daylight hours. As he led to her lie down she finally regained a semblance of her senses, twisting away she turned, Flesh pearly in the moonlight, pushing him back she straddled him. Legs on either side, she rose above him fulfilling a wish to taste him from the head down. Nipping and sucking she moved with a fluid grace, finally coming to her prize. Taking him in her mouth she committed his taste to memory, it was something along the lines of a deep smokey whiskey mingled with the sweetness of blueberries. Already she was addicted. Out of nowhere he grasped her, yanking still she was eye level. He was panting, "Mein Leibe, I would prefer that I release inside of you for the first time. We have hours upon hours and endless days to try many more things." He purred in her ear. Moving his hand from her hair he held onto her hips, entering her in one movement, impaling her in the air. He laid back and let her ride him. Watching her hair cascade down her back and wrap around her breast, his hand teasing the other one. He felt her squeeze him as she came undone for the first time. He rolled them over and drove deep in still. Her hips snapping up to keep a steady pace with the rhythm he set. Landa was not going to last, he groaned her name and buried his face in the juncture between her neck and shoulder. His name in a none stop litany from her mouth, puncture rated with vulgarity. She cried for him begging to go harder and starched at him. Down his back and arms, even biting his shoulder as her body shattered in his arms. Only then did he let go, when her eyes rolled back and back arched so much it looked like it would break. Then he relaxed, drew out and saw their mixed spending coating both. Dipping his hand down he wrought murdered on her sizzling nerves. Coating his own fingers, he brought them up and licked them. Smiling he said, "My sweet tooth has always gotten me in trouble and I find I have the oddest cravings at times." Shosanna laughed, letting it shake her whole body and licked his fingers. "You'll have to tell me some of your favorite desserts; I find my own sweet tooth lacking."

He took her again that night, and relished the feeling of her in his bed. Finally feeling her sleep next to him, as the morning dawned he woke her slowly. Moving at an agonizing pace he made sure her body would ache for days. When she would reach up for something in storage room or stretch to change a reel she'd remember why exactly she hurt where she did. He watched her dress, while he himself got ready. Letting her go a bit before him he walked out into the morning sunlight, his black boots glistening much like her skin the night before. Before she had gone he warned he that he would see her, but not to expect a night like last for at least a week. He grinned when he saw her crestfallen face, grabbing her arm he moved her so her face nested in his chest. "Shosanna it's only for a week, business that I need to follow up on. There are rumors of men that are worse bastards than me, Mein Leibe." He knew she had heard of them. They were living nightmares with no regards to the innocent people whose land they hunted in. The stories he heard and the piles of burning corpses he witnessed with his own eyes attested to the fact they did not care who found their mess when finished. At least his men cleaned up after themselves. She had nodded, turning her face to his for a kiss. He granted her that, making her gasp and whisper his name so softly. For now he knew they would be left alone. No one had interest in a small cinema owner and other knew to leave him alone. He had enough power to evoke that fear. She would understand and wait. He only worried about himself. Now that he knew he had her, his patience would be weakened, and he would go crawling to her.

Shosanna walked back, her legs sore and her neck and hip singing where Landa bit her. Reaching the cinema she walked to her rooms. On the door Marcel had left her his own note. It simply stated that he hoped her friend she spent the night with felt better and he was off to visit family out of the city for a few weeks. Since business had been so slow he didn't think she'd mind. Shosanna laughed and tossed it away. She drew a bath for herself and soaked for a longer than she normally allowed herself. Getting up from her bath she had a short amount of time before the Sunday matinee. Getting the theater ready she noted he sent a box with a note telling her its contents where some of his favorites. Later she snacked on these while she cleaned up from the weekend, her previous neglect teasing her. She'd sleep early tonight. Eagerly she ready herself, tying her hair back with a red scarf this day she knew that would the color she would always wear some bit of. He liked it too much for not to taunt him with.

What she didn't expect was for the dreams to get worse. They entwined in each other, mimicking parts of the night before. Only it ended with searing pain in her chest and a boy she didn't know staring at her with the most wounded eyes she knew. And Landa on the forest floor screaming in pain being seared with something he never truly believed in. Shosanna woke up panicking, covers twisted around her legs preventing her from jumping from the bed as the dawn streamed into her bedroom. It had dawned gray, with leaded skies. She watched the clouds break open, drowning the city with pellets of water. Letting it know blood was to be spilt and her nightmares and its streets. The city knew the Basterds where coming.


	4. The air is caving in

He missed her, after just one night of having near him and he was aching. The meeting he was involved in with Goebbels's was only being heard with one ear. The pompous ass was spouting of his latest project involving the poster boy for Aeron supremacy. Landa felt a faint twinge of sympathy for the boy, Fredrick Zoeller. His wide eyes dazzled by the city's lights and fetching women. He watched him across the table, pipe clamped between his teeth, wondering if the boy would soon be tempted by the showgirls at the showrooms. He wouldn't be surprised; those painted hags would feast upon Zoeller with unabashed delight, lacquered claws digging into his baby face while their stained lips would whisper poisoned delights into his ears. Then again Fredrick might surprise him, that eager face could be hiding a more devious brain. Devious, now that word pushed his thoughts back towards Shosanna. It described her well, moving about the districts as though she had belonged there her whole life. She did it only took a train to move the world to place her here.

The meeting dragged on longer than he wanted it. Goebbels finally informing them Landa was to be the head of security for the premier. Of course the film still needed to be edited and the poster printed and all the little details Goebbels loved to drive people mad with. Having a conversation with man neatly drove him mad on a daily basis. Maybe Zoeller was made of stronger resolve than he though to even tolerate the slimy director, he himself could barely stand to share the same air as him. Finally the trite speeches were done, pounding of war heroes backs commenced and Landa was free to go. He inclined his head and directed his goodbyes to the present parties. Strolling from the room he received a tap on his shoulder, pausing he wondered who had the gall to touch him. No one did, they always waited till he initiated first contact frightened their hand would by twisted off. Plastering a smile on his face he moved to see Zoeller waiting him with bubbling anticipation.

"May I walk with you Standartenfuher?" Zoeller asked earnestly, his own polished boots matching Landa's steady march. "I know the meeting must have been a great bore to, all these details you have no interest in. But I have seen you at the smaller cinemas. I respect and admire your abilities and would like to learn more from you sir. I find I am not drawn to the clubs like my fellow soldiers. I want to understand more of the daily lives of those here. "Landa only made a noise intoning he was listening, the boy's charm not working on him. He remembered when he was Zoeller's age, and the tricks he used to get what he wanted. He was not in the mood to humor him, The Basterds were leaving him minimal clues and he was already short tempered from dealing with Goebbels for the past two hours. "Sir," the country boy personified continued," I was wondering if it would be alright if I accompanied you this weekend to the film house you frequent. I must confess the proprietress has caught my eye. Have you spoken with her? She seems a little untouchable, but I hope to be able to tell her I find her choices wonderful. She has such a respect for the cinema. I mean to ask her to…." At the mention of Shosanna Landa spun around, grabbing Fredrick by his upper arm. Never had he wanted to rip something apart so violently before. Zoellers sentence stuttered to stop on his lips. The ice cold look the Standartenführer was giving him caused all thoughts of the stoic cinema owner to leave his mind. "It would do you well to not follow me," Landa squeezed the arm harder. "I do not make friends with those that have no use to me; you may be the golden boy of the Reich for now. But there is an end coming soon. And not how you would think, you are only a wrapping for a diseased limb that needs to be cut off. Enjoy the time now. Enjoy the pretty young things throwing themselves at you. Leave the mysterious women to the men that understand the working of their minds, they will destroy you Zoeller. "The private tried to make good an apology while Landa stepped back and straightened his uniform. With one last parting glance he turned and left. Urgency now made his stroll quicker. His property was being threatened, and he was in no mind to have a youth still wet behind his ears try to take his glided bird from her cage.

Zoeller watched the higher ranking man depart, wondered what he said to cause such a volatile reaction. His arm stung where Landa's grip dug into the muscle, wincing he rotated his arm. Noting it was going to bruise and he was not happy about it, he had to pose for Goebbels's posters the next day and knowing how much of a megalomaniac the man was Fredrick would have to hold a rifle for hours. All he wanted was advise, Landa had seemed like the perfect candidate, all the others were full of themselves and looked at him as an actor playing the role of good soldier. Only now that did echo his life precisely. He thought the Standartenführer would look to him as maybe an equal, seeing his decision to play Goebbels part to gain a reach into a secure future and not a death in the mud on the front lines. That would explain his fascination with Emmanuelle Mimieux, if he could have her fall in love with him like he did with her at first sight, then the world would right itself and he could leave his mocking heroics behind him. She he knew in his very soul could save him from himself. With that he decided he would try tonight.

Shosanna worked quietly at her desk as dusk crept up. She was still unsettled by the dream last night. She had fallen back to sleep wishing Hans's arms held her soothing her strained brow and wiping the sweat away. Her dreams were still troubled but she felt safe in the fact Landa wasn't there to torment her, he had given part of himself to her. She knew he saw her now as an equal and not something to be destroyed. So she sat patiently hoping he would at least stop by even though she knew was going to be busy with work she wanted to know no part of. Her office door was flying open and her body being pulled up to engage in a harsh battle of teeth and lips left her gasping for more air than she thought she needed shocked her to say the least. Landa stood before her, his eyes gleaming and his arms wrapped around her to mold her into his body. Pushing him back lightly she thanked him for her desserts, demurely kissing his cheek. He looked confused for a moment then laughed. "Mein Leibe I needed that." He moved to take a seat on the desk. He looked tired but brightened when she came near and rested her check on the top of his head. He noticed his hat near the door; it knocked off in his hurry to pull her to him. "And what was so awful about your day?" She teased him, "Elegant women requesting your presence, people wanting to move to your every command. How could anything go wrong?" She stroked her hand through his hair, moving down to his neck and pressed down easing the bunched nerves in his shoulders. Huffing he told her, "Silly boys playing with sticks and stones and not understanding the aims behind those with power give me headaches." If she kept her hands moving along his back he would very soon not be responsible for his actions. He decided he shouldn't be and pulling her mouth down to his he convinced her between nips, long slow slides of his tongue to have her lead him to her bedroom.

Hours later when Landa left Shosanna began to change the marquee. Hearing an inquiry chirped her way she looked down to see a man peering up at her. Not so much a man but a boy in the shadow of his adolescence and the dawn of adulthood. She watched as he tried his hardest to impress her with pretty words, so she gave him a small smile for his efforts. Noticing his uniform she knew him to be of the kind that took pride in what he did, if he didn't what did he have back home. But here he would try to woo a woman branded by another. Surely he could see that, her body sung of it. Because of that she stopped her chore and walked away, she had no time for men that should still be at home flirting with the pretty girl a few rows from them in class.

He haunted her steps, like a lost puppy begging for a pet and a warm place to sleep. One day conversing with her as she waited for Landa to be back from the country, her mind bored with out his conversation. She didn't realize how much he had become part of her still he was gone, their nights and days filled with a game of hide and seek and their very souls coming unraveled somewhere in between. This boy coming to her begging her to adore him caused her disgust in the pit of her stomach. Landa never asked for adoration, he simply asked for her. Fredrick Zoeller as she now knew him was a nation's pride, a nation that took away a people that didn't understand why they were targeted. He took immense pleasure in fulfilling a madman's insane plot to up his own self worth. And believed with his whole being it was the complete and utter right thing to do. Landa knew the damnation that would be upon him when the war ended, he knew he was on the losing side. Even if Germany won he would still condemned, people would still fear him. The tide was turning and he would move with it, sailing on its waves finding a new start and take her along. Zoeller wanted only prizes, even if he felt any of the remorse he played up in his eyes, he would only want something to show off. If it broke he would always find something new to his liking. Hans would fix it, tinker till it worked again.

Fredrick Zoeller did not understand the depth of rage Landa felt when Shosanna informed him of his infatuation. He had just learned Goebbels wanted him as head security for his little premiere. He planned on putting that whelp in his place. He would see the wolves eat him alive and watch him drag his shredded body back to his unit. That night he drove into her, bending her in ways that physics denied. She gave back just as much, not letting him rest, whispering her fears in his ear and finding solace within his own shared fears. Both clung to each other as the waves shifted again, as the lifeboat around them splintered and threatened to break apart. Caused by a boy with too many stars in his eyes and an ambition to take what didn't belong to him. He was the beginning of his own doom and never thought of the fire he would bring down on those he reign down on those he touched. Fredrick was not going to be ignored and stood outside the little cinema that haunted his waking thoughts and sleeping moments. The sight at the window did not please him, his Emmanuelle in the arms of someone he formerly respected. Both oblivious to hell unraveling on the street below.


	5. Something shimmering and white leads you

The day the black sedan pulled Shosanna knew it was the beginning of the end. The impatient rat like Gestapo that's demanded her attendance leered at her from across the seat. Smiling at his own ingenious, feeling her contempt only made his day better. The little French bitch didn't deserve what she was about to partake in and she knew it. Hellstrom could only foresee glorious events happening for the Third Reich.

The bistro they pulled up too sent alarms off in Shosanna's head. Only those who were 'important' dined there. This ment she was far out her depths and could feel the sharks prowling, waiting to sniff one small amount of blood. As she was lead to the private room the young officer kept glancing back at her trying to do his best to unnerve her. She just ignored him, if anything he was a bug to squashed leeching from the scraps left by others. Shosanna briefly wondered if he could smell his own despair.

Upon entering the dining room she noted a black haired obviously French woman. She showcased all the examples associated, down to the over pampered groomed poodles daintily sitting at the table. Shosanna had to strongly suppress her eyes rolling so hard in her head it would cause a migraine. Next to her was seated a man that instantly brought to mind the image of weasel, or better a ferret. His sharp pointy eyes darting around and twitching, long spider fingers grabbed while his tongue grotesquely licked at the droppings of whatever delicatessens he consumed. Goebbels induced the need to vomit. She knew the way he consumed his food was the same way he fucked the simpering woman beside him, quick messy and greasy. Turning her eyes away she was greeted by the sight of Zoeller, his eyes honing into her as though she the Madonna herself. If Shosanna didn't already feel the need to be sick this only caused her more discomfort. He sat there so bright in shiny, convinced he would woo her. Telling her stories of his sisters and his own movie house back in Germany, trying to convince her that she felt like home. Shosanna didn't need him to make a home, he lead back to life that was burned away. With that thought she was seated and introduced. Told in mock flattering tones how she had whisked away all thoughts of the grandest place in Paris for Goebbels's premiere. Rapid German flew over her head till she felt him next to her. Deciding on whether or not Germany's best and brightest would fill her property. Her head swam with the absurdity of it. She would always know when he was near. She memorized his very body; she would always recognize his scent.

Landa walked him quietly, noticing Hellstrom nearly wetting himself in perverse delight in the corner. His mere presence announced him; seating himself next to Shosanna he was not pleased she was located in this proverbial lion's den. Zoeller seated next to her to close for comfort, his eyes feasting on her throat and movements. His hand clenched and he had to feign polite intrigue on the supposed mystery woman next to him. Introduction and jokes were made, Goebbels's French whore reeking of perfume translating. Information passed that there was to be a screening at the little theater, to judge the integrity of the building. Landa started when he was asked to attend, stating he had a pervious engagement, hoping to lure the beasts away for the time being. His ploy did not work but at least he would be able to put a distance between Zoeller and Shosanna. As Goebbels made good his exit, driven by overly flouncing dogs and woman he informed everyone he intended to sit and chat with Mademoiselle Mimieux. As he thought Zoeller reacted, indignation rising up which he pounded down own. Forcing a power play and letting the private know who really had already won. Defeated the boy left while the Minister comforted his golden prize. Reseating himself Landa turned his attention towards Shosanna. They still had to dance this little waltz. Moving around each and spinning just within reach only to sidestep away when the correct movement swelled. Their conversation and actions a gross mockery of the time they had so far shared. And still he wanted to take that fresh cream and paint her wit h it, letting her know that he still had a part to play and lines to repeat. But still she would fall into his arms and together they would make this world right. He left her shaken, knowing she had forgotten just how cruel he could be. Stubbing out his cigarette and walking away he heard her quit sob, releasing her frustration the day had brought to her door.

That night the both sat next to each other, watching with hollow amusement as the "Lucky Kids" played out before them. So it had been decided, their sanctum destroyed and over taken by gaudy decoration ment to appeal to living bloated corpses. He left her pacing, he had security plans to finalize now and a somehow find a wolf's dress to hide a sheep. Still the Basterds breathed down his neck hinting at plans he only caught in the corner of his vision.

While sitting next to Landa, it dawned on Shosanna what should be done. As much as she loved this place it needed to be purged. It would become the stepping stones for her new beginning, the one where she and Landa would walk side by side without any running. This way she could free Marcel. Give him the proper chance of the life he tried to delicately hide from her. The plan was discussed and soon it would begin. Later that night she walked the curfew streets to his place. Knocking on his door and rousing him from slumber she crawled to him. Shosanna could not blame him for the way he acted today; she understood the means to the end. Deciding to not tell him of her plans, at least not yet not till the night of the premiere.

Landa watched her sleep, curled on her side with her head resting in the crook of her arm. The sheet pulled to the small of her back and one smooth leg peaking out. He stroked his hand down her spin and marveled at the creaminess of her skin, decided to wake her by kissing the small dots gracing her throat. He informed he had to leave for a few days; there was an investigation he needed to attend to in the country side. Leaving her with advice on the attitude to give the invaders of the cinema, to just nod and let Goebbels have his way like a spoiled child. She sleepy blinked at him and agreed with a voice hoarse from cry from the previous hours. Kissing her shoulder he told to stay as long as she needed and if she needed to leave the theater there was her own set of keys to give her an escape. God he hoped when he came back the smell of her would be in his bed or better still her there waiting for him.

She watched him leave and walk to the car waiting to escort him. She dressed taking with her the shirt he had left on the chair at his desk. The dark blue causing her to remember the contrast it made with his eyes, almost soften them. She would sleep here at night and wait his return. It was to be the day before the showing of "Nation's Pride." So she would wait and plot, humor those inserting themselves in her life and ignoring those that would take said life away from her. She made her choice long ago and never looked back.


	6. My eyes hum with things I've never done

A basement bar, the aftermath and bodies scattered in every direction. An abandoned shoe turned on its side and an elegant scrawl wishing love and flattery to a fatherless babe. And the jigsaws fell into place; of all the hints Landa received on Operation Kino these two pieces marked his deal breaker. These were what rattled around in his brain on the way back to Paris. How to let these vultures enact their plan, knowing none of those left from that unit had anything to lose. Knowing he would secure a place for him and Shosanna, Landa slipped into a doze comfortable in the fact all would be well.

He entered his apartment and smiled at her touch that had been left, a book open with a wine bottle next to it and vase of simple flowers. Stripping himself of his uniform he showered knowing he would fall into bed and be surrounded by her scent. Leaving his bathroom he looked up and found her sitting on the bed. A simple blue shirt encasing her he realized it was his. She opened her arms and he fell in readily. Rolling her over and crushing her, they spent that night entwined, plans running about spinning minds while sweat dripped. Touched each other as if this wouldn't last, making patterns in skin and bruising willing flesh. Punishing each other and giving salvation all in one gasp or cry. Tomorrow would dawn too soon and there was a lifetime to feel.

Parting early Shosanna prepared herself, watched as the last minute details where fixed. Flowers were fixed and marble was polished. Food was imported along with tapestries announcing exactly what was intended and Landa lorded over it all. She poured herself into a red dress, the setting sun painting her hair so it glistened. Her cheekbones highlighted and her eyes smoking, her lips painted in tempting shades of the reddest apple. Stalking out of her quarters she surveyed all that would burn. Glittering jewels placed in hair and tightly drawn up bosoms', while these women attempted to pour themselves into the finest dresses the city of lights had to offer. These affronts to the artistic senses were escorted by overfeed walruses. Each one leered at the others pets, all trying to find a way into each other's undeserved wealth. She watched him charm his way from person to person, women falling over themselves and men trying prove they were on the same level of wits. He glanced at her, eyes swept down her body and she shivered. The red was for both of them. She had told him her plan the night before, he accepted with a smile. He even laughed and asked how she improved Goebbels masterpiece. He assured her he would out in time and asked how she would exit; letting him know of the system used to change films she would switch the reels and walk out. Telling the security guards there were details to attend to as the profiteer of the theater she would leave and be thankful she missed the horrendous accident in the old cinema. An old gas pipeline from the vaudeville days knocked loose during construction and a careless cigarette igniting the tragedy. The planned to meet in a few days time to depart for the life waiting them.

So she went to her projection and began preparations. Glancing back she noticed hi speaking to the German starlet Bridget Von Hammerstien and her escorts. The three men uncomfortable as Landa laughed at the out of sorts blonde. He then led her away passing Shosanna and nodding to her as he entered the office, demure blond walking before him. There was business to be finished and bargaining ships to be gained. She shrugged it off and began her chores. The filmed progressed and Marcel said his goodbyes , her bell signaling the last change. But a small knock interrupted her, Zoeller was at her door. So they danced, he played the shy boy and she pushed away; he had finally taken enough of her abuse and let his true self show. Spoiled brat kicking and screaming pounding his fists on the floor she relented. As he turned away to help she shot him, watched his body slid down, hand still grasping at the door knob. Breathing slowly she walked over to his body, looking down at him she did not feel any regret only pity for a boy never knowing what he truly wanted and deserved.

Her chest erupted in pain, looking down she watched her blood seep out and blend into her dress. The one she picked to show Hans how refined she was. Her head slowly lifted up and met Fredrick's eyes. He shaking hand hold the smoking pistol that threw her body back, his eyes showing the pain he felt. Eyes only wanting love from something slightly out of reach, maybe if it had been a different time they would have met. Slowly gotten to know each other, danced at a local hall and walked down path in the summer evening, hands clasped together. It was still only a maybe, as she lay on the floor her blood pooling around her she knew Landa still would have found her. Still drawn her away and led her now to a dream that would lead the peaceful walk to her death. Closing her eyes she thought of his last night and tasted his lips on hers and breathed a last satisfied gasp. She never heard Zoeller's body collapse against the door, while a film informing a damned audience that there was indeed a message for Germany or the bombs aid in the fire she began.

Epilogue:

Operation Kino was a success. Landa walked with only a scar and his chest adorned with a different country's pride. He settled in his adopted country and it was only a few days later Raine informed him of how Kino finished, revealing how much he admired the young Jewish girl that sacrificed her home to destroy a people so evil. Shosanna Dreyfuss was such a pretty name, such a pity she was shot in the projection room. Her body was found before it was burned, the fire department on hand so readily, it was an important night after all. Raine casually mentioned a Private Zoeller's body lay next to the door; it looked as though there was a good old fashioned shoot out. No hero survived. He left Landa sitting there at a kitchen table located in a house that held no promises for him now. Its hopes moving out the door as the sea breeze swept through filling the air with the smell of salt, mingling with the tracks pouring unnoticed from Landa's eyes.

He had her body brought to him, buried it on hill where the sun dipped into the sea and the grass dipped down to kiss the sand. He dreamed of her, every night. Dreams recounting their weeks together. Meals eaten and conversations spoken. There were ones of the lives they would have had, children running down steps and playing in waves. Birthdays were celebrated and knees bandaged when they were scrapped. She ran a local movie house and he built boats and they lived a lifetime in his unconscious hours. He could still feel her body on him, around him and smell her hair next to his nose. It always took place in the hazy time that marked the distance from when he woke. The time were he was on the brink of opening his eyes and felt more pain than the morning in the dewy wood where Aldo Raine took his bowie knife and steadily cut into his head. He knew just how hard was to wake up when dreams were your only redemption.


End file.
